Book Description

Haunted
by memories of her murdered twin, Keely Morrison is convinced suicide
is her only ticket to eternal peace.

But
in death, she discovers the afterlife is nothing like she
expected. Instead of peaceful oblivion or a joyful reunion with
her sister, Keely is trapped in a netherworld on Earth with only a
bounty-hunting reaper and a sarcastic demon to show her the ropes.

When
the demon offers Keely her ultimate temptation--revenge on her
sister's killer--she must determine who she can trust. Because, as
Keely soon learns, the reaper and demon have been keeping secrets and
she fears the worst is true--that her every decision changes how, and
with whom, she spends eternity.

Teaser

My
heart thudded wearily, like it’d been broken into a million shards
of glass. I’d never felt so lost. So vulnerable. I wanted my
parents. I wanted my sister. I wanted our lives back. I wanted
everything the way it was before Jordan died.

“I
miss you so much, Jordan. I only wanted to be with you again. Please,
Sis. Tell me what to do.” I hung my head. “I need you.”

“It’ll
be okay, Keely.” Not my sister’s voice. Not even close.

I
jerked my head up and looked around. He was just as mysterious as I’d
remembered, in his black shirt, pants, and duster. All that black was
in stark contrast to his wavy blond hair and those eyes. They were
what I’d call a forever
blue—the kind of eyes that seemed as though they could read souls.
I’d never seen irises like his—bright, like they were lit from
behind. He was handsome for someone of my parents’ age—early
forties. What was it about those eyes that calmed me when I should
have been terrified at finding a complete stranger in my room? For
all I knew, the effects of the tequila and sleeping pills hadn’t
worn off. He definitely wasn’t a paramedic. But, he had saved my
life, and then politely waited for me to clean up and get dressed.

“Thanks,”
I said. “For what you did.”

He
shrugged.

“I
have no idea what you see in her, Banning. Doesn’t seem worth it to
me,” another voice said.

A
second guy entered my room. He was about my age, packing pure
attitude and a lean, fit physique into a red Harley Davidson t-shirt
and a pair of faded Levi’s. His short brown hair was perfectly
mussed, and he had fierce, dark eyes. And apparently, an equally
fierce tongue.

Who
were these two? They almost acted as though they knew me, yet this
felt all wrong. My first semi-coherent thought, based on the man in
black’s attire, was that he worked with Dad at the District
Attorney’s office and the younger guy was his smart-ass son, or
maybe his assistant. Dad had done this before—had someone from the
office stop by to pick up a brief or some notes. But who’d let them
in the house?

With
a bit of effort, I managed to lift my head in the newcomer’s
direction. “And you are?”

Instead
of answering, he simply rolled his eyes. What a jerk. Maybe he’d be
a bit more cordial over that pot of coffee I wanted. Or not. I stood
and shoved past Mr. Attitude.

He
grabbed hold of my arm. “Relax, Sunshine.”

His
grin creeped me out. I pulled away, but he blocked my path. “Who
the hell are either
of you?” I asked, finally becoming a bit freaked out now that the
ice in my brain had started to thaw. I no longer cared that the man
in black had saved my life. This was weird.

He
turned and walked out of my room into the hallway. “You explain it
to her, Banning. This is your deal, anyway.”

The
guy in black, Banning, apparently, motioned for me to follow him from
my room. “Come on, Keely. Let’s talk.”

Even
in my current dazed state everything felt wrong. Maybe these men
weren’t who I’d first thought. I shook my head in an attempt to
jump-start my brain. The motion only made my vision blur. I really
needed that coffee.

“I’m
Banning,” he said, extending a hand. “I’m here to help you.”

I
didn’t take his hand. I wanted to sit down and collect myself
before I vomited or fell over. I steadied myself against my desk
instead. “No offense, but you look like the mafia. Or an
undertaker.”

He
laughed and his blue eyes lit up his face again. “Neither. This
isn’t going to be easy to hear, Keely.”

Great.
He even sounded like Dad. I paused, my brain finally clicking into
gear and setting off an alarm. It dawned on me why he was here.
Something horrible had happened to my parents on the way home from
the dinner party. “My mom and dad—are they okay?”

Banning
raised a hand. “They’re fine, Keely. Really. But I do have a bit
of bad news.”

“Are
you from Dad’s office?” I asked, now certain again that he was,
and certain, too, that he was lying about Mom and Dad’s well being.
After all this, I couldn’t imagine something happening to them. I
was still having some minor difficulty unscrambling all my thoughts.
That did it. Tomorrow, I was becoming a health freak.

“Five
minutes, I think. Then they’ll be here,” Mr. Attitude called out.
“Tell
her, Banning. What are you waiting for?”

“Tell
me what?” I asked.

The
younger man returned, still in his perpetual state of annoyance.
“You’re dead, Sunshine. Banning here is a reaper. I’m Daniel,
the demon who’ll be escorting you and him to hell at the end of next week

About the Author

Michelle Muto

Michelle Muto lives in northeast Georgia with her husband and two dogs. She loves changes of season, dogs, and all things geeky. Currently, she’s hard at work on her next book.

Story Behind "Don't Fear the Reaper"

I first came up with the idea for Don't Fear the Reaper after several agents had rejected another novel I’d written and asked if I had anything, darker – more edgy. Oddly, it’s been years, but I still recall coming up with the concept so vividly. I was cleaning house and mulling over new ideas when Blue Oyster Cult’s iconic 1976 song, Don't Fear the Reaper, came up on my iPod’s playlist. There were several parts that truly inspired me: “Take my hand,” “40,000 men and women everyday,” “Love of two is one. Here, but now they’re gone,” and “the candles flew and the mist appeared, the curtains blew and then he appeared.”From there, it was a matter of ‘What If’s’ that made my idea unique from the song. What if it wasn’t star-crossed lovers? What if it was family? What if the main character met up with a bounty-hunting reaper and a handsome, but sarcastic demon? And what if all the odds were stacked against my main character and yet, she still found hope and assistance in the most unlikely of fellow characters? What if all it took to save a soul was sacrifice, one born of undying love and devotion? And yet, what if the price of that salvation came at a high price? I couldn’t wait to write it. What I hadn’t expected was how it’d rip open old wounds, how the pain of writing Keely’s grief meant revisiting my own. I’d lost my grandparents, my parents, my uncles, all my aunts except for one. I’d lost friends and beloved fur babies, all of whom I’d loved with every fiber of my being. I’d witnessed four of their deaths. I even held the head of two in my arms as they passed. Two loved ones died in the house I currently live in. Up to this point, I’d managed my grief. Now, by sitting down to write about love that went beyond death, I was getting ready to stick a hammer and chisel into the wall I’d built and bring the entire thing down—and with it, all the painful memories I’d carefully placed behind it.Tell me about Heaven, Dad I really want to know, Because ten long years have passed, And I miss you so…The above stanza is from a poem I wrote to my father ten years after his death. I cannot begin to describe what it was like to lose my father, whom I loved more than my very being. All these years later, I’ll freely admit it: I’m a Daddy’s girl. We’re so much alike, he and I. I was robbed of him far too soon by multiple myeloma, a brutal and incurable cancer.For those who have read Don’t Fear the Reaper, it’s easy to see the real life example I used. It’s easy to spot the grief, the emotion I used for my main character, Keely Morrison. All scenes I drew from real life.Oh, and about those agents? I had several tell me that the opening was one of the best they’d read in a long time and that the concept was truly original. But, in the end, they felt the subject matter was too dark. That’s okay. I think the person best qualified to make that choice is the reader.That’s my heart on a sleeve, Dear Reader. The story behind the story. Thanks for reading about the journey.